Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Gary Snyder’s "We Wash Our Bowls in This Water" is a meditation on the cyclical nature of water, the interconnectedness of the natural world, and the deep spiritual significance of streams, rivers, and oceans. Beginning with the scientific observation that "The 1.5 billion cubic kilometers of water on the earth are split by photosynthesis and reconstituted once every two million years or so," the poem establishes the vast, ancient scale of water’s existence, reminding us that every droplet we consume and use has passed through countless previous forms, from glaciers to rivers to rain.

Snyder moves from this expansive perspective to an immediate, sensory immersion in the North Pacific landscape, "A day on the ragged North Pacific coast get soaked by whipping mist, rainsqualls tumbling, mountain mirror ponds, snowfield slush, rock-wash creeks." The catalog of water’s manifestations—from "earfuls of falls" to "tidewater crumbly glaciers, high hanging glaciers, shore-side mud pools, icebergs, streams looping through the tideflats"—emphasizes its movement and fluidity. Water is never static; it is a constant cycle of motion, erosion, and renewal. The mention of "sea lions lazing under the surface of the sea" reminds us that water is not only an elemental force but also a home, a habitat interwoven with the lives of countless beings.

The central phrase of the poem, "We wash our bowls in this water / It has the flavor of ambrosial dew," brings the vastness of water’s journey into a moment of intimate human experience. Washing a bowl—a simple, daily act—connects the speaker directly to the endless motion of water across the planet. The phrase suggests both humility and reverence, as if acknowledging that something as basic as cleansing a dish ties into the grand scale of ecological and cosmic cycles. The comparison to "ambrosial dew" reinforces this sacred quality, invoking the idea that water is not just necessary for life but a gift, something to be honored.

The poem then shifts to the perspective of rafters navigating a river, describing the river’s dynamics in technical terms: "upwellings, sideswirls, backswirls / curl-overs, outripples, eddies, chops and swells." The rapid-fire listing of these water formations mimics the energy and unpredictability of a river, showing an intimate knowledge of how water moves. The descriptions become almost instructional, as Snyder explains the behaviors of waves and currents: "A hydraulic’s a cross between a wave and a hole, / -you get a weir effect. / Pillow-rock’s total fold-back over a hole." The language is at once practical and poetic, illustrating both the physical and spiritual depth of the river. The mention of "some holes are ‘keepers,’ they won’t let you through" suggests the danger inherent in these waters, reinforcing the idea that humans do not control nature but must instead learn to read and move with it.

After this moment of pragmatic river-running knowledge, the poem shifts again into ritual and offering: "We offer it to all demons and spirits / May all be filled and satisfied. / Om macula sai svaha!" The Buddhist chant, which is an invocation of purification and offering, links the act of rafting and moving through water with spiritual practice. This recalls Snyder’s lifelong engagement with Zen Buddhism, where even the most mundane actions—washing a bowl, paddling a raft—become opportunities for mindfulness and recognition of interdependence.

The final section of the poem ties this philosophy back to the poetic and philosophical traditions of China and Japan. Snyder references Su Tung-p’o, a Song Dynasty poet, who spent a night by a mountain stream and emerged with a poem that sees the flowing water as a vast and endless voice: "The stream with its sounds is a long broad tongue / The looming mountain is a wide-awake body / Throughout the night song after song. / How can I speak at dawn." The stream becomes language, the mountain a sentient presence, dissolving the distinction between human awareness and the natural world. Two centuries later, the Zen master Dōgen expanded on this idea, questioning whether it was Su Tung-p’o who woke up to the truth or if it was the mountains and rivers themselves that achieved awakening. Dōgen’s radical perspective collapses the boundary between self and nature, suggesting that enlightenment is not something attained by humans alone but something that exists within all beings—rivers, mountains, stars.

Snyder brings this Buddhist perspective into his own poetic voice, reflecting on how "billions of beings see the morning star / and all become Buddhas!" The interconnectedness of the universe—where a single moment of recognition can illuminate an entire world—permeates the poem’s closing thoughts. He poses a final challenge: "If you, who are valley streams and looming / mountains, / can’t throw some light on the nature of ridges and rivers, / who can?" Here, he directly addresses the nonhuman world, demanding its wisdom, implying that enlightenment does not belong to human beings alone but is embedded in the physical forms of the Earth itself.

"We Wash Our Bowls in This Water" is a powerful synthesis of ecological awareness, Buddhist philosophy, and the poetic tradition of deep attentiveness to the world. The poem flows between scientific fact, lived experience, technical expertise, spiritual invocation, and ancient poetic wisdom, mirroring the endless movement of water itself. Snyder, as both a poet and a student of nature, teaches that every drop of water we touch connects us to something much larger than ourselves—whether it be the mountain streams of China, the high glaciers of the Pacific Northwest, or the rivers we navigate in our daily lives. The simple act of washing a bowl thus becomes a gesture of humility, participation, and reverence in the vast, ceaseless cycle of existence.

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